Yesterday I woke up with some red marks on my leg. I assumed I had bed bugs and went OCD, searching my sheets for signs of the notorious nighttime critters. I texted photos of the bites to anyone I knew who had experienced bed bugs, and their answer combined with my exceptional research skills led me to believe that it was (thankfully?) something else. And so I continued my day.

I was left to assume the bumps were simply razor burn from shaving. Hours later, I went to get a bikini wax. As I undressed in a private room of an inhabitance filled with gossip magazines, pink pillows and women convincing you to get “the diva” pedicure while you prepare to have your public hair ripped out, I looked down. My feet and legs were covered in a horrible, all-encompassing rash. I apologized and quickly left the spa to return home for more utilization of my journalism degree and found out such rashes were a reaction of a medication I was on. Despite Benadryl and a good night’s sleep, when I woke up the next morning the rash had spread up my legs to my stomach and torso. I shall spare you a photo. I called my doctor who suggested to go to the ER. I did, they gave me an IV to calm the rash, told me to stop taking the meds, and did a full blood work up (still HIV negative, babe).

While sitting in my gurney wondering if using a hospital outlet would somehow accidentally electrocute Anthony, the man next to me wanting morphine for a headache (shady recognize shady… he was not playing it cool enough and only got some Tylenol) I examined the scenery around me. While I concur money is better spent on the world’s best doctors and research, patient care could use some work. Here are five things I think would make going to the ER a way cuter experience:

Hospital gowns. They are generally itchy, especially if you are in for an allergic reaction. I imagine the same standard grandma-print pattern are given out to everyone because it’s easy and inexpensive. Yet I learned from Grey’s Anatomy that there are ALWAYS “overheads” so I know what I am talking about here. If the open back that allowed Anthony, my hospital bed neighbor, to see my butt as I teetered to the bathroom, is important. why not a Snuggie? They now even come in evening gown and tuxedo looks, so we can feel fancy while we’re sick. Also, if I was into Anthony, we could have had a slow dance in the corridor and not looked like mental patients.

Hospital socks. I get it, you want to throw them out after you leave because of the germs, and the no-slip tracks on the bottom are helpful when bobbling around trying to pee with an IV stuck in your arm. And they are cheap, like 99 cents a pair. How about animal slippers instead? I still won’t fall when woozy from medicine, plus if I get scared I can simply take off my slippers and use it as a stuffed animal or a pillow since those suck too at hospitals.

Hospital curtains. I got love for Tony, but I was trying to sleep and he was keeping me awake with his Tylenol complaints. Rest leads to healing. Why not replace these with some blackout curtains? I own at home these in an oxblood shade. They block out those harsh ceiling lights plus the sounds of screams and allow for a peaceful rest while in the emergency room.

Hospital admission bracelets. They’re plain white and boring and sterile. Other than identify the patient the main design concern seems to be the inability to remove them without scissors. I am done with Coachella because it reminds me of my wasted days when I blacked out during Tupac’s zombie performance. Yet those bracelets were hard to remove, why not go for something like this? The PLUR mentality (peace, love,unity and respect) shall spread from our minds thus heal our bodies when glancing at colorful and shiny wristbands rather than remind us of our ailments.

Hospital latex gloves. Raise your hand if you have ever had a doctor fantasy. But boring, bunchy condom-like gloves? Not sexy. To remind patients that we are sexual beings that shall live to see another orgasm, why not try some kinky latex gloves? I suggest black. They’re New York’s signature style–classic and sexy.